


Finding Home

by nic



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: F/M, Gen, Schmoop, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic/pseuds/nic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly muses on the changes in her mother after Alex awoke from her coma.</p><p>(Sadly AU now that the final of A2A has aired.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

My mother's marriage caused quite the scandal. Everyone we knew had something to say about it - it was too soon, she barely knew the man, what was she thinking, and wasn't she thinking of how her daughter would feel? But for me, it was just another thing in a long line of changes that I had to get used to. You see, my Mum was never the same after she got shot.

Sure, she woke up, and went back to work, and eventually asked me to come back from Dad's. She convinced the doctors and the psychiatrists and everyone at her job that she was okay, and yes, being in a coma was certainly a life-changing experience but she was still the same person and she could be completely back to normal. She just needed a little time, that was all.

I believed her at the start. I was so happy that she was alive. I didn't care that she sometimes sat there with a faraway look in her eyes, dreaming of something she wouldn't explain. Or when she had nightmares, and I'd wake to hear her shouting my name and I'd run into her, hold her hand, tell her I was here.

She always looked surprised to see me.

I wondered who she expected to see instead.

There was one time that she tried to explain it. "It was like a dream, Molly, and you were so very far away. And I spent all of my time trying to reach you." I wanted to believe her, I really did. But when she looked down, and twisted her hands together, I knew that wasn't entirely true. "I wish I could explain, but it really doesn't make any sense." Another pause. Then she laughed, almost to herself. "That must be what happens when you're in a coma. Your mind makes up incredible stories just to keep itself going."

Mum was so sad, in those early days.

But that was nothing compared to what happened next.

I knew she was having trouble at work, said that everyone was just so lifeless and robotic. And every time she tried to suggest a different way of doing things, she got ignored or told to go home and rest. So she started staying back at work later and later. I was fine with it - there was so much going on at school and there was a boy who liked me and it was great to not have someone expecting me to be home by six.

And then one night, she didn't come home at all. She called me, and she was actually laughing. I could hear low-level chatter in the background, glasses clinking, sounds of a football match.

"Mum, are you at a pub?!" I was scandalised. She used to drink alcohol, *before*, but I wasn't even sure if she was allowed to drink yet. The doctors had told her to look after herself, eat healthy, all of that. She was thinner than she'd ever been.

"I'm just out with a friend, Molly, and I'm going to be home quite late. So I want you to make sure the door's locked and don't wait up for me. I'll see you in the morning."

It was nice that she trusted me but I still wasn't sure. "Which friend?" I asked her.

"Someone you don't know," came the quick reply. "Now, have you done your homework?"

I reassured her that I had, and she ended the conversation quickly after that.

Of course, the next morning when I caught her coming through the door, still wearing yesterday's clothes, I realised that the 'friend' had been a man and it was obviously someone she didn't want me to know about. Mum had dated in the past, and there was even one man who lived with us for a while, but she'd never stayed out all night. Not when I was home alone.

I was confused. She didn't do this kind of thing. Not my mum! But she was smiling - humming even! - and I really, really did NOT want to know.

(We had sex education in school. But there are some things that you can't imagine your parents doing and this is one of them. I can't even imagine me doing that yet!)

It turned out that all those late nights she'd been putting in at the office? Weren't at the office at all. "I've been seeing someone, Molly," she confessed, a light in her eyes. "Someone who's very special to me. I just wanted you to know that because you're going to meet him soon."

My heart fell to the floor. This sounded...serious. How could she find a boyfriend so fast? I wondered if she'd known him before the shooting. Or did she meet him at the hospital? A doctor?

"Who?"

"He's a private detective," she answered. "Used to be in the police force. He's re..." and she caught herself, not finishing what she was about to say.

I stared at her.

"Don't give me that look!" and suddenly she was all mother-y again. "Now hurry up and get ready, otherwise you'll be late."

And I realised, just then, that she was more like her old self than she ever had been.

 

\---

It wasn't long after that when she announced that he'd asked her to marry him. She laughed to me at the time, saying, "I was perfectly happy for him to just move in here, but he's a bit old-fashioned."

Old-fashioned was an understatement. The man was old enough to be her father. Maybe even her grandfather (although I made sure to never, ever say that to her. I got shouted at enough for the first comment.)

"I don't understand, Mum! He's... he's...."

"He's what?" She gave me that look, that steely gaze that I'm sure she used on all the criminals that she caught.

I didn't know how to put it. Mum's partner was nice enough to me but he scared everyone else who crossed his path. He was old and cranky and shouted at people all the time. That's probably why everyone was so upset when they found out that Mum was marrying him.

"How did you meet him, anyway?" I said sullenly. "The old person's ward at the hospital?"

"Molly!"

She sighed, and placed her hands flat on the table. "We met through work. And that's what we'll be telling everyone." Her gaze was direct, challenging me to make an issue of it.

I frowned back at her. "Is that really the truth? I'm your daughter, Mum! I know you went through an awful time getting shot but I'm worried about you. This man, he comes out of nowhere, proposes and you say yes? Why?"

"Oh Molly, I'm so sorry. I know how hard this has been on you." She was using her psycho-analysis stuff again and I hated it when she treated me like one of her crooks. ("They're not criminals, Molly, they're just misunderstood!") And I think she recognised my annoyance.

"Look, I'll tell you the truth, but you must promise to NEVER tell anyone. Especially not your father or uncle."

This sounded more interesting. I nodded, still angry with her, but hoping she would come up with a better reason than meeting at work.

"The truth is, we met several years ago. And we - well, I don't know if I'd use the words fell in love, because it was quite a different relationship to what we have now, but - he was very special to me."

"Was this before or after Dad?" I had to ask her.

She looked down. "Before. After. It doesn't really matter, does it?" I thought it did, but I let it go. "But for reasons that I can't explain, it didn't work out. And then after I woke up, I remembered him, and wondered if he was here."

If he was here. Interesting way of putting things. Perhaps he'd moved abroad all those years ago? I wanted to ask her for more details, but there was one point that stood out to me. "So you found him?" Somehow, that made me feel a little better. She'd done the looking.

Mum smiled, and I hated to admit it, but she looked so happy when she thought of him. "Yes. Yes, I did."

 

And despite all of this, the whispers and the gossip, the big changes in my life (let's be honest, though, it all changed the day of the shooting and my life was never going to be the same again after that), there's one thing that makes it okay. Mum's happy. She's happier than she even was BEFORE. And seeing her happy makes me happy, and well, I guess I can put up with Gene Hunt for that.


End file.
